


if you pray right

by palisadespalisades



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, i wrote a better ending, narrative satisfaction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2020-10-14 09:43:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20598698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/palisadespalisades/pseuds/palisadespalisades
Summary: "When the sky doesn’t fall, you pull Eddie into a full embrace, wrapped in your arms. Your fingers are threaded through his hair and you don’t know how they got there; something subconscious is telling that closer is safer and you’re only following instinct. Despite it all, you twist into something between a grimace and a grin, and bark out a laugh. 'Fuck me. I’m not leaving him, Bill. I’m not leaving him down here.'"this is a no-win situation— richie knows that much. but he refuses to lose outright. no way in hell.





	if you pray right

**Author's Note:**

> long time no updates sorry about that
> 
> anyways this is the result of a vision that came to me so clearly i needed to pull over to write it down so i wouldn't wreck my car. gay god herself came down and whispered it into my ear. alternatively: what do we want? narrative satisfaction! when do we want it? now!
> 
> obviously, spoils both movies and the book. this is a re-write of the ending. it's pretty nasty and pretty sad, so... fair warning.
> 
> i hope reading it is as cathartic for you as writing it was for me.

He hangs in the air, dangling from an invisible rope like a corpse. You touch your hand to his chest, and even that tell-tale heartbeat can’t convince you the stiffness under your fingers isn’t rigor mortis. You pull the fabric of his polo into a fist and stifle a sob. He’s here, his heart beats, but the emptiness in his stare, hanging just above you, is nothing. There’s nothing.

The cave crumbles around you, and you feel Bill pull at you. You turn to him, just for a moment, and wrench out of his grasp, never letting go of Eddie. He’s covered in blood and grime, tear tracks smeared down his face like war paint. You want to punch his grimace right off his ugly face, but you turn away – anger has to wait; your entire attention is consumed by dread.

“Leave him, Rich, he’s already gone, we gotta—” a crack in the cavern’s walls interrupts him, dust and debris falling from above. You tighten your grip on Eddie, and brace yourself. “You’re not dying down here too.”

When the sky doesn’t fall, you pull Eddie into a full embrace, wrapped in your arms. Your fingers are threaded through his hair and you don’t know how they got there; something subconscious is telling that  _ closer is safer _ and you’re only following instinct. Despite it all, you twist into something between a grimace and a grin, and bark out a laugh. “Fuck me. I’m not leaving him, Bill. I’m not leaving him down here.”

You don’t turn to look at him, but you can feel his eyes on you, and you know the face he’s making all too well. A resigned sneer, angry at your disloyalty –  _ disobedience _ – boring a hole into the back of your neck. A look to terrify, to dominate. Worlds away from the Bill you grew up with, but familiar all the same. 

_ (I was just scared, Bill.) _

You bristle.

“We have to go—”

“I didn’t say ‘we’. I’m not leaving him.  _ Go _ . I’ll buy time, just—”

“I’m not losing you  _ too _ —”

“For fuck’s sake, think about someone other than  _ you _ for once and just go! It’s not about you. It’s never been about you. It’s—”

“You.” You stop, and glance back again. He’s not making that face anymore; he looks softer, sadder. More like  _ Bill _ . “Him. The rest of them— Georgie. Not me. I’m not the fucking hero.”

“You’re  _ not _ ,” you say, but it loses any indignation or fury it might’ve had as soon as it passes your lips. It’s not even a reproach. It’s like a condolence.

He tugs you again, and you don’t move. “Go, fucking  _ go _ . Take Eddie. I’ll hold him back, just… just do it now. While you still have time.” He glances back towards the exit, to your friends’ retreating figures. Ben, Beverly,  _ Mike… _ lingering behind. “Now.”

Without thinking, you scoop Eddie into your arms. He crumples against you, and you breathe a sigh— of relief, maybe. He’s limp, and feels smaller than you’ve ever known him to be, but it’s not as unnatural, as horrifying as before. You start towards the light, and make a break for it. You listen for Bill to start following, but you don’t hear footsteps. It doesn’t stop you. Your eyes are trained on the exit, barely wide enough for you to squeeze through, much less the two of you.

As you skid to a stop, you hear It behind you. Close enough to raise hairs, but far enough to give you a fighting chance. You hear It cackle and jeer, and you hear Bill spit at It.

“You’re gonna be the hero this time, Billy? You couldn’t save Georgie… his big brother, his ‘protector’, his  _ hero _ . He was all alone… just like you are now. Alone and  _ afraid _ . You can’t save anyone!”

“I’m not afraid.”

“Your friends left you, Billy, you don’t need to act all brave…”

“They didn’t leave me. I stayed.”

“To what end? It’s not going to  _ help _ . I’d love to play, Billy, but stalling is such a boring game, and we need to get on with the  _ show! _ ” You can  _ feel _ Pennywise’s grin behind you as you slide Eddie through, your hands shaking all the while. He’s still not moving, though his chest rises and falls — slowly, too far apart, too strained, but it does. The rest are on the other side, and you’re sure they’re not expecting him; it occurs to you that he might just free-fall, but splitting his head is a better fate than dying  _ here _ . “Or did you want to stay? Are you here to  _ play with me _ , Bill?”

You try not to listen. You don’t want to hear what It says. You focus on the task at hand: getting Eddie  _ out _ .

“Let’s play, motherfucker.” Horrible sounds fill the air, reverberating through the cavern. The sound of a fight— the sound of a  _ losing _ fight.

You drop Eddie through, and hear Beverly shriek from the other side; no thud, no sickening crunches, so you figure you’re alright. When you shimmy out yourself, you see Ben and Mike with rocks raised, poised to strike.

“We were trying to dig you out,” Ben says, tears brimming. “Is–”

“He’s still back there. Still fighting.” But you’re hardly conscious of the words as they slip, gathering Eddie in your arms again. He’s ghostly pale, worlds away from the sun-kissed, freckled boy you knew so long ago, and tremors overtake you. You curl into him, knelt on the ground, and weep. You weep for all the memories you’ve forgotten, all the ones you substituted with other faces, all the years with him you spent, the years you missed, the years you’re never going to get, now that you know you want them. Bev crouches beside you and strokes your hair as you cry, saying nothing— she knows you well enough to know there are no words to say.

Your rasping, panicked breaths don’t stop, but they slow, and you can  _ try _ and regulate yourself. The ringing in your ears quiets, and you hear shoes against debris; behind you, Mike is going back.

Beverly stands, and she and Ben move to stop him, but you shake your head. “Don’t. You can’t stop him.” Bev’s watery eyes meet your own, and she opens her mouth to protest, but you cut her off. “He needs to know.”

“If Bill’s…” Her voice cracks mid-sentence, and she stops, dropping again, face buried in her hands.

“If it’s over.”

“Do we wait?”

“I can’t fuckin’ run right now, can you?” you say, motioning to Eddie, still catatonic in your lap. His eyes haven’t closed. Bev barks a laugh, and shakes her head.

“Think I can smoke right now?”

You sit, and you wait for Mike. It can’t be longer than five minutes, but it drags by like hours, your finger tracing the features on Eddie’s face idly. You feel where his hair curls at the ends, the worry lines creased across his forehead, the first hints of a five o’clock shadow across his jaw. You close your eyes, and try to memorize his features— you wonder, against your better judgement, if this is the last time you’ll see him. His wife doesn’t even know you; could you really justify going to the funeral? Would she let you go? Would he have wanted you there?

(No. He didn’t even know you. Not anymore. Not like… this.)

Mike’s been gone for a frightening length of time, and Bev’s getting antsy, pacing endlessly. Ben is tracing the walls, trying to see how much time you have left before the whole place crumbles around you. Your forehead is pressed against Eddie’s; his skin feels cooler than before.

“Eds,” you mumble, and you pray the others have the decency to pretend they can’t hear. “Come on, come back to me, I – I need you. I can’t lose you. Not like this, not  _ here _ , not when I haven’t had the chance to…”

You trail off, realizing you don’t know what you were going to say. He shudders a breath and you stare, losing yourself in the rise and fall of his chest.

“Haven’t had the chance to…” and you remember that night all those years ago, down in these same sewers. Beverly, suspended in the air. All of you trying to drag her down. Trying to wake her up. Ben kissing her.

You brush your thumb across Eddie’s lips, whisper “Fuck it,” and press your lips against his. You kiss him softly, chastely, hesitantly— it would feel like a first kiss on a playground, if you couldn’t taste your tears and his blood on your tongue. It lasts for just a moment before you pull away, paralyzed by dread.

He doesn’t move, and you think for a moment that it must not have worked, until he blinks. Slowly, weakly, lashes sticking to his bloody cheek. You’ve never been so glad to meet his eyes, even when they twist into a panicked sneer. You’re met with the look of disgust you’ve always dreaded, but it doesn’t even register.

He’s alive.

Eddie pulls away from you, dragging himself back across the cavern floor with wild eyes and shaking hands. “Don’t – don’t fucking  _ touch _ me,” he says, voice high and tight like it was all those years ago, afraid and in pain. “Don’t… don’t touch me.” He curls into himself, and you let him, shoulders sagging.

“Mike!” Ben cries behind you, and you and Eddie both turn to look. He’s back, covered in blood, doubled over and dry-heaving.

“He’s… gone…  _ It’s _ … gone…” he gasps, as Ben moves to support him.

Bev takes his other side, and looks at you. “We have to go.  _ Now _ .”

You nod and stand, offering your hand to Eddie. Your mouth’s cut into a grimace, but you steel yourself and wait. For a beat, it looks like he might spit on you, but the walls shake and it’s enough for him to take your hand, letting you pull him up. He leans against you, arm over your shoulder, and you start towards the exit. With each step, he’s closer to your side, and before you have time to think, you see daylight.

Eddie looks at you, wide-eyed and shell-shocked. “It’s over. We… we did it.”

You smile at him, and nod, even though it feels like that couldn’t be further from the truth.

_ Nothing’s over. _ You offer him your hand, and he takes it.  _ It’s just beginning _ .

**Author's Note:**

> comments questions etc. can be directed to @stupidrights on twitter


End file.
